It's All in the Details
by DaisyDay
Summary: Now TWO one-shots! (CHAP 1) An explanation as to how Officer Kate Beckett became the youngest woman in the NYPD to make detective...(CHAP 2) An explanation as to how Castle came to write the Derrick Storm mystery book series...My first Castle fanfic!
1. Chapter 1

_(Disclaimer: Most characters are part of the Castle universe)_

_(An explanation as to how Officer Kate Beckett became the youngest woman in the NYPD to make detective.)_

_._

**IT'S ALL IN THE DETAILS**

September 2002

Fall had just begun to arrive in New York City. The days had turned more brisk, transforming the city trees into a breathtaking palette of golden, reds, yellows and oranges. Although the weather was cooling down, the crime rate seemed to be heating up.

Officer Kate Beckett had been thinking that very thought as her workday began. It was early morning and she was dressed in her officer blues, with her sturdy laced shoes gleaming and her law badge shining.

She realized it was a slow process in becoming a detective, sometimes requiring many years. Hopefully it would not be that for her. She had recently completed taking the detective's written exam, the psychological test, the physical, and the oral interview. She thought she had done very well, but one never knows. It was now a matter of waiting for the results. Being a detective was all she ever wanted to do ever since her mother had been brutally murdered. Forget about a social life; her _job_ was her life. Love was something in the far future.

Her ritual every morning had been to head over to Starbucks. Their brewed coffee beat the precinct's one by a mile.

The coffeehouse felt inviting, warm and familiar as she entered. Its interior reflected the city's aesthetic, which meant it was bright and loft-like, with worn wood tables and factory-inspired lighting. The aroma of coffee wafting throughout the room welcomed her further as she stood in line. Afterwards, with her drink of choice in hand, she scanned the room.

Sitting alone at one of the lone tables was none other than Captain Roy Montgomery. He had a reputation for being respectful and fair minded, especially to his underlings. It was as if an opportunity had fallen on her lap as she approached the Captain.

"Good morning, Captain Montgomery," she greeted him cheerfully, "May I join you?"

Captain Montgomery already knew of this young female officer, due to his outside involvement in her mother's murder. Even so, he never showed Joanna Beckett's daughter any special preference. Not that she needed it. She had already built a reputation for being a hardworking and dedicated law enforcement officer.

"Company would be nice, Officer," he said formally as he gestured to the seat across from him. And then as if this were the first time he took notice of her, he asked. "and you are Officer...?"

"Beckett, Sir. Officer Kate Beckett."

"Of course, of course," Montgomery acknowledged, "Officer Beckett. The name is familiar. If my memory serves me correctly, you are one of the candidates vying for the position of detective in my precinct."

"You are correct, Captain Montgomery," Kate said confidently, "and I feel I am more than qualified to move up to being a detective."

She hadn't said anything he hadn't heard before from likely candidates. He took his time taking a sip of his coffee. Then putting the cup down, he gave her a measuring stare.

"So you think you're ready to be a detective?" he questioned her, "and what qualities do you believe you possess that would make you an excellent detective?"

Kate could not believe her good luck. She was actually being informally interviewed by the Police Captain himself! This may be her only one opportunity to impress.

"I consider myself as someone who thinks outside the box, Sir," Kate told him, "I am well-acquainted with the law, I'm curious, and very detail-oriented."

The Captain half-smiled. Self-confident, bright and intrepid. She just might make a good detective one day, but for now he considered her too young. He decided he should show her how inexperienced she was for the position.

"Detail-oriented you say," he sagely commented, "well, I'll let you in on a secret, Officer Beckett...when it comes to being a good detective, there's noticing details and then there's _noticing_ details!"

Kate wasn't sure what the Captain meant, "Sir?"

"I'll be happy to show you what I mean by being keenly observant," Captain Montgomery volunteered, "Hmmmm..." He looked around the room until his eyes settled on the man sitting at the table next to theirs, his back to them.

Perfect.

He gestured with his head towards the next table.

"_See that guy over there?" _Montgomery asked her in a tone barely above a whisper_, "My conclusion is that he is a housepainter."_

Although Kate's head didn't move, her eyes furtively went over to the lone customer. The man looked pretty nondescript, wearing a white tee shirt and blue jeans. There seemed to be no evidence that he was a painter: no paint on his clothes nor a paint bucket or paintbrush in sight. She moved her eyes back to the captain.

"_A housepainter?"_ she questioned.

He nodded, "_And do you know HOW I came to that conclusion, Officer Beckett?"_

"_I would like to know, Sir,_" she stated respectfully.

He nodded knowingly. The wise master was teaching the young novice.

_"It's all in the details, Officer Beckett_," he explained, still keeping his voice down so the man wouldn't hear, "_I'd noticed immediately when he had passed by my table earlier that he had a sunburned face, which meant he spent time outdoors. And upon further notice, I saw the flecks of red paint all around his face and neck. Plus, I caught the scent of turpentine about him. That is something a painter often uses as a thinner or cleaner."_

He sat back in his seat, quite pleased with his brilliant observations. Expecting accolades, he was surprised when Kate's eyes suddenly became solemnly alert.

"_Sir_," she now leaned in, purposely kept her voice soft, "_did you say there were flecks of paint __around __his face?"_

Captain Montgomery seemed baffled by the female officer's question, "_Yes I did, Officer Beckett... all __AROUND __his face," _he emphasized, looking slightly indignant_, "WHY?"_

She whipped her face over to the man and stared at him full-faced. When she turned back, her eyes were blazing.

"_That man._.." Kate's voice was insistent yet quiet as she declared, "_... is... a _**_bank robber!"_**

The Captain looked stunned, "Wha-"

But Kate had already gotten up from her chair and stood next to the man at the next table.

"I'm Officer Beckett," she informed the man, "and I would like to have a word with you."

The man looked up at Kate, and then nonchalantly looked over at his coffee cup.

"I can't imagine why you would need to talk with me, Officer," he mumbled.

Though he appeared casual, Kate could see his fingers trembling as his fingers curled around the coffee cup. She watched as he then took a slow sip and knew he would not come quietly. Her heart started beating faster.

"Do not make a scene," Kate warned him, "just slowly stand up with your hands above your head."

Then everything happened quickly.

The man lowered the cup from his mouth and instead of placing the cup back down, he lifted his hand and tossed the remaining liquid in Kate's face. With liquid dripping from her face, she immediately recovered as the accused then bolted out the door.

"Stop! Police!" she yelled after him, her voice echoing in the high ceilings as customers in the shop looked on.

She instantly gave chase and ran out after him. In shock, Captain Montgomery also quickly headed out the door.

Once outside Starbucks, Montgomery watched from a distance as Beckett swiftly ran after the man. As she closed in, he witnessed her making a flying leap at the suspect and tackling him to the ground. By the time Montgomery had arrived on the scene, she had straddled the guy and had him handcuffed from behind. As he laid on his stomach, she read him his rights.

"...if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you..." she ended, "do you understand the rights as I have stated them to you?"

"Go to hell!_"_ the uncooperative man said with disdain.

"Already predicting your future, are you?" she calmly responded, as she roughly yanked the man up from the ground and held tightly to his arm.

Captain Montgomery blocked Kate from leaving with the suspect. He just had to know.

"Wait...Officer Beckett... how_ in the world_ did you figure out the guy was a bank robber?"

She turned to look at him, her expression unchanged, "It was all in the details, Captain."

"...t-the details?" Montgomery questioned incredulously.

"Yes, Sir," Kate stated matter-of-factly, "remember the robbery at the First National Bank early this morning? The bank had booby-trapped the stolen money with a red dye pack that would eventually explode in the robber's face. The robber had a mask on, so when the dye hit him, it managed to splatter on the robber's hair, neck and ears. So when you said the red flecks were _around _his face, that's when I knew there was a possibility your housepainter was the masked bank robber. And your mention of turpentine made it a certainty."

"The _turpentine_?" Montgomery questioned.

His mind was working a mile a minute, trying to reason everything out. At last he figured it out

"Of course, the _turpentine_!" he exclaimed, looking pleased, "The man's skin had been red, _not_ from being outdoors, but from the irritation caused by the turpentine and the abrasive rubbing he must have done to get the dye off!"

"NOW you're thinking outside of the box, Sir!" Kate acknowledged, "So if you'll excuse me, it looks like I'll have to take a drive over to the 12th sooner than I expected. " She pushed the bank robber forward, "Come on, let's go."

Captain Montgomery impressively watched in silence as she led the suspect away. When they were no longer in sight, he shook his head back and forth in amazement.

_And here he thought Kate Beckett wasn't ready to be a detective._

He knew exactly what he needed to do the minute he got into his office.

"_Looks like I'll be pushing somebody's paperwork through faster than expected,"_ he said, chuckling to himself.

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_Thanks so much for making it to the end! If I got any facts wrong, I apologize. Truthfully, I was sooo nervous about posting this!_

_Please review! _


	2. Chapter 2

IT'S ALL IN THE DETAILS, part 2

_Thanks for reading chapter one. It was very well received, so here's chapter 2! And who knows, maybe there'll be more in the future! *winks*_

_(An explanation as to how Castle came to write the Derrick Storm mystery book series)_

May, 1998

Castle was in deep thought when he walked up to the apartment where he lived with his mother. Having committed himself to a writing career, he wasn't sure how next to proceed. Sure, he had some moderate success with some standalone short stories he had written, but the money he earned from them wasn't enough for him to sustain a living.

He needed to think BIGGER.

So he had an idea about doing a series of books about a strong, male hero. But that was the only thing he was sure of. What should his name be? Derrick? Nick? What about his last name? And his profession? Should he be a private investigator? Police? FBI? CIA?

So many decisions; so much time.

He was glad to be home as he inserted the key and walked in. The residence was simply furnished, due to the fact that his mother didn't make much money. Martha Rodgers worked, but it was usually with off, really _off_ Broadway shows.

One day he promised himself he would buy a swanky New York loft for his mother. He could picture it all in his mind: the cozy, spacious living room, an open metallic kitchen, an impressive staircase, and of course, the coolest study _ever_, complete with swords!

One day.

"Mo-_ther_, are you home?" he shouted out as he looked around the sparse living room.

"Richard!" She always seemed to float into the room with her grand gestures, usually wearing gauzy chiffons with bold prints, "How lovely that you're home!"

He gave her a quick peck and both of them went into the kitchen.

"I'm beat, it's been a frustrating day," Castle told her as he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, "but, hey,...what's up with all the police cars downstairs? It's like the neighborhood was giving out free donuts or something."

"Oh, I know what you mean!" Martha agreed, "Earlier today I was forced not to put my makeup on using my rearview mirror as I drove. And it all because of the ridiculous blockade! After all, what are rear view mirrors for, if not for that?

"Maybe the mirror is there to check the traffic in the back?" Castle suggested. Sometimes he felt as though he was the parent raising _her._

_"Pshaw!" _Martha said, "Shouldn't I be more interested in where I'm going instead of where I'd been?"

"Nevertheless, Mother...forget that...I was asking about the police cars out in front?"

"Oh, indeed," Martha said, as she poured herself a Merlot, "Yes, those pesky police cars...I think it has to do with that strange guy who lives below us. You know whom I mean...I believe his name is Brickland? If you ask me, he's the _most_ depressing man on earth! He's probably committed some crime or whatnot," she stated nonchalantly.

Castle's ears perked up, "_Crime_, did you say?"

Martha took a sip, "Yes, yes._Crime,_ Murder...Tomato, Tomahto."

_"Murder?"_ Castle looked very excited now as he put the apple back, "You know what? I think I just might go downstairs and have a look myself ..."

Martha put her hands on her hips, "I thought you said you were tired...".

"My flames of excitement and discovery suddenly became re-ignited again, Mother!" he gleefully told her as he rushed towards the door.

In seconds he was gone and Martha was staring at a shut door. She nonchalantly took another relaxing sip.

"_Flames? Re-ignited_?" she repeated to herself, "_Richard may be too meddlesome for his own good, but on the other hand, he certainly has a talent for prose!"_

.

When Castle arrived at the neighbor's apartment, the yellow police tape was already up. He was allowed to cross police lines after explaining to one of the officers that he could help to identify the victim. The officer lifted the tape up so that Castle could go underneath and then he was brought over to Detective Thunder, the person in charge.

Detective Thunder was stooped over the victim. While waiting to speak to the detective, Castle was able to look around the tiny apartment, which had a thrift-shop vibe to it. Everything in the room was mismatched and used. He noted how the room basically consisted of a rumpled sofa, one worn coffee table and a painting of flowers in a vase.

At last Detective Thunder stood and faced Rick, forcing Castle to look up, which was unusual for him. At 6 feet 5 inches with bulging muscles, the detective looked like a former Marine.

Introductions were exchanged.

"Do you recognize this man, Mr. Castle," Detective Thunder asked in a very brusque, businesslike manner, indicating the dead body.

Castle looked down at the victim, who was laying in the middle of the small living room. The dead man was sprawled on his side, a gun not far from his hand. His clothes were rumpled and his hair was matted with blood. Castle bent down and without touching anything, studied the victim before standing up again.

"Yes, that's definitely Jeff Brickland, although I barely knew him," Castle confirmed solemnly to the detective, "but how was he murdered?"

Thunder lifted an eyebrow, surprised a witness was asking him a question. And he wasn't in the mood. However, this Castle guy did know the victim, so maybe he deserved to know the truth.

"Mr. Brickland was NOT murdered," Thunder said sounding slightly impatient, "He was found here with all the door and all the windows locked from the inside. And as you can see, there is the gun near his opened hand It was definitely suicide."

"That's it? _That _proves to you it's a suicide?" Castle asked.

"There are other reasons," Thunder told him, "I suppose you didn't know he was despondent."

"About what?" Castle looked truly curious.

Thunder glanced at his notes, "From his computer emails, we ascertained that he had recently been fired from his job, his girlfriend had broken up with him, and there was also a eviction notice on his door. Definitely reasons to be despondent enough to shoot himself in the head...any other questions you have for me?" he asked sarcastically.

"How long has he been dead?" Castle asked.

Now Thunder was flabbergasted.

"I believe you are here to answer _my_ questions," he snapped, "And since you have nothing further to give us, I suggest you leave so that the _professionals _can effectively close this case!"

Instead, Castle walked over to the only sofa in the living room. It was a gaudy green color. He studied the area for a time. There was a small hole in the thin cushion of the backrest.

"Why did he shoot the sofa?" Castle asked, "although, I would, too being that it's so ugly."

Thunder didn't think Castle was funny and he didn't look surprised that there was a bullet-hole in the sofa.

"It was obviously a test shot," he concluded, "Brickland probably wanted to make sure his gun wouldn't jam when it was his end time."

Castle acknowledged, but still didn't make an effort to leave.

"He didn't shoot himself," he confidently told the detective, "someone else shot him."

"So you're saying Brickland was _murdered?_" Thunder wasn't buying it.

Castle's expression gave away nothing, "I didn't say that, either."

_Jerk,_thought Thunder.

The detective took a deep breath in, as if he were trying to control his temper

"Okay, so you say he didn't commit suicide and he wasn't murdered. So what's left?" Thunder wanted to know.

"Someone _accidentally _killed him," Castle calmly stated.

The detective appeared unconvinced, "You have no proof to substantiate _that_ theory!"

"Yes, I do," Castle told him, "the proof is with that wall over there."

He pointed over to the wall with the faded wallpaper above the green sofa. There was a scowl on Storm's face.

"There's nothing there," Thunder pointedly declared, wondering if Castle was hallucinating.

"Not _now_, but there was _previously_," Castle explained.

He then pointed to the painting of the flowers which was now on the opposite wall, "That painting over there _used_ to be above the sofa. It matches exactly the bleached outline above the sofa."

_"What?"_ Thunder stared at the bleached wall and then the painting of flowers. Surprisingly, Castle could be on to something.

"_But...why would anyone want to move the painting?"_ he wondered outloud.

Castle walked up to the painting, "Probably to conceal _this..."_

At the same time he said _'this',_ he lifted the painting on the opposite wall, revealing what looked to be a bullet-hole. Castle immediately breathed easier. For a split second, he was afraid nothing would be behind the painting.

Incredulously Thunder walked up to where Castle stood to observe the newly discovered hole.

"Hmmm...interesting..." Thunder stared at the hole, "Whoever fired the shot did so from the other side. This is an exit hole." He then turned to Castle, "How did you know this hole was going to be behind the picture?"

"It was all in the details," Castle said.

"_What_ details?" Thunder was definitely curious.

"The bullet hole in the couch, the faded spot on the wall, and of course, the little nicks on the handle of the gun."

_"The nicks on the handle of the gun?"_

Thunder walked back to the body, which was now covered in white cloth with the coroner ready to take the body away. Fortunately the gun was still on the floor. he bent down and when he squinted his eyes, sure enough, he could see the nicks on the edges of the gun's handle.

Thunder stood up, "I see them...but why are they there?" he asked Castle directly.

"I figured the shooter, after his awful discovery, used the gun to hammer the nail onto the wall so that he could re-hang the picture," Castle told him.

Thunder bent his left elbow so he could rest his right elbow on that arm and scratched his chin with his right hand, "So...could you run everything by me again?"

Castle shrugged as if it were no big deal.

"The way I see it, " he explained, "The neighbor next door was probably cleaning his gun or something of that nature when he accidentally fires his gun into the wall. A little shocked, he comes over to Brickland's place to make sure he didn't hurt anyone. Luckily he has a spare key, which next- door neighbors usually are given when friends go on vacation. Anyway, when no one answers the door, he uses that key to get in. Upon finding Brickland dead, he panics and puts the gun in Brickland's hand to make it look like a suicide. Then he purposely shoots the couch, moves the painting to cover the bullet hole, and then uses the spare key to lock the door on his way out."

Thunder looked as if he were in a trance as he tried to take in everything Castle had said.

"...and the reason for shooting the sofa?" he questioned.

"besides it being ugly?" Castle said, "I believe it was so that he could make sure that there was gun residue on Brickland's hand," he suddenly looked as tired as he felt, " So, now that I've identified the body...May I go?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," the detective said, still trying to take in everything. He then slowly turned towards Castle, "...and, um, hey, thanks for your help."

"Don't mention it," Castle said," even though you just did."

"If I can ever be of assistance to you..." Thunder suggested rhetorically.

Castle grinned, "Actually, you can...I need help now."

Uh-oh, thought the detective.

"Um, just to let you know," Thunder said decisively, "I have NO authority to fix parking tickets."

"Oh nothing like that, Detective" Castle promised, "it's just...I'm a writer and I'm stuck as to how to begin my new novel series. In fact, I can't seem to make the smallest of decisions for my story. Maybe you could help."

The detective hadn't expected that.

He shrugged, "I'll do what I can."

"Okay..." Castle said, "should the main character be a private investigator or a detective?"

"Private investigator," Thunder responded immediately, before adding, "although you might _possibly _write about a police detective in the future."

"Fair enough," Castle said, "CIA or FBI?"

"CIA."

_Oh this is very helpful_, Castle thought.

"Should the hero go by the name of Lightening or Storm?"

Thunder smiled at the idea that it was a word play on his own name, "I like Storm".

Castle nodded, "That's it for now. I'm sure you'd like to wrap up your investigation, seeing that you now know who the killer is. But I reserve the right to question you later."

"Anytime, Mr. Castle," the detective said respectfully.

He gratefully held out his hand.

Castle shook the firm handshake.

"By the way," Castle wondered, "What is your _first_ name, Detective Thunder?"

"It's Phineas," he said evenly.

Castle almost choked.

"Uh...so for my character's name, should I use Nick or Derrick?"

Thunder laughed, "Derrick."

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Please review_


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